


Alienation

by AceyEnn



Series: August And Everything After [5]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Amicable breakups, Anxiety, Aromanticism, Asexuality, Autism, Bullying, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Judaism, Panic Attacks, amethyst is a good pal, peridot is short for the same reason danny devito is, utterly gratuitous mentions of ada lovelace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceyEnn/pseuds/AceyEnn
Summary: Peridot has always been a little weird. (Or maybe it's just that everyone else is.)(Set partly before Pearl, Interrupted, partly between chapters 35 and 36.)
Relationships: Amethyst/Peridot
Series: August And Everything After [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796716
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	Alienation

**Author's Note:**

> PERI TIME. This one is a bit shorter than Ame or Lapis' backstory fics, but that's mainly because Peridot's childhood wasn't filled with horrific trauma and drama the way theirs were, and there was thus less to expand upon. It's also EASILY the most lighthearted fic of the bunch so far, so...I hope you enjoy it even though it's not a whirlwind of tragedy like most of what I write? :P

Your name is Peridot Zimmerman, and you've never had any clue how to talk to people.

When you were younger, you just assumed your lack of popularity stemmed from the leg braces you had to wear. You have a bone disorder that rendered you short and gave you some difficulty walking, and the braces were necessary back then. 

Of course, you’re beyond thrilled when you’re finally able to get them off at the age of twelve. Now you'll be cool! You'll able to make  _ friends _ . 

But you don't. Every last one of your classmates, every peer at your synagogue, thinks you're a complete weirdo, rude and obnoxious, and you don't understand  _ why.  _ If anything,  _ they're  _ the weird ones, what with their ever-changing, nonsensical trends and chronic lack of passion. And they're always so  _ social _ , like they never need a single moment to recharge, and they never seem scared to talk to each other...

You've known you were fundamentally  _ different  _ from other kids for a long time. When you were diagnosed as autistic a few years back and learned what that meant, it explained a lot. It didn't explain why people didn't like you, though. For all your school’s talk about diversity and acceptance, they sure as hell don't do a lot to make someone even  _ slightly  _ outside the norm comfortable, and the other kids...well. They’re idiots, every last one of them. You don't  _ need _ their acceptance. 

Right?

\---

You like technology a lot. It's just so  _ interesting _ , and the rules are at least somewhat  _ consistent _ , and the fact that apparently no one  _ wants _ to hear about the history of computer programming, or the video game crash of 1983, or machine learning, or anything like that, is utterly baffling to you.

“This is  _ cool _ , though!” you explain to your lab partner, a girl you probably would never interact with if you hadn't been paired together at the beginning of the year. “See, Ada Lovelace--who, incidentally, was Lord Byron’s daughter--she's kind of the mother of programming. She published the first algorithm for Charles Babbage’s Analytical Machine, and--”

“No one cares, Peridot,” your partner groans.

“ _ I  _ care,” you huff. “Besides, the fact that the first programmer was a lady is objectively badass. It's such a male-dominated profession now, but--”

“Oh my  _ God _ , shut  _ up. _ ” 

You do, but you make absolutely sure to glare daggers at her.

\---

You get your favorite hoodie when you're fourteen, as a birthday gift from your parents. 

You love your parents. Really, you do. And they love you! But usually, they don't seem to really  _ get  _ you, and on top of that they're insanely overprotective, even smothering.

Today, though, they actually seem to understand something about you. 

You'd been coveting that hoodie, an oversized green number with an alien head on the chest, for  _ months.  _ Aliens are cool, and the fabric was so soft when you tried it on at the store. Your mom had declined to purchase it for you at the time, despite your begging, but you figure better late than never. Maybe your parents had even  _ planned _ it as a birthday present.

It’s sweltering outside--your birthday is in August, and it's an exceptionally warm day even for summer--but you gleefully put the hoodie on anyway, profusely thanking your parents.

It becomes almost like a security blanket. You can't articulate  _ why _ , but it's a comfort in every sense of the word, and you decide to wear it everywhere. On especially hot days, you end up opting to wrap it around your waist, but most of the time you wear it normally. It ends up with holes and stains, of course, but you could not possibly care less. It's your favorite thing, and no matter what happens to it, you refuse to ever get rid of it.

\---

You make your first real friend later that year, when you begin attending a newly-formed therapy group to deal with your intense anxiety. It's a terrifying prospect, the group. You're being  _ forced  _ to interact with multiple people for an hour every single week, and you're absolutely paralyzed with fear when your new group mates walk in, a little bit after you arrive. You're chronically early, and you'd almost hoped that they wouldn't show, but…

Well, here you are, with the mediator and two girls who are  _ infinitely _ cooler than you. A blue-haired girl with long ugly scars on her wrists and a scowl on her face, and a pudgy girl with wild purple hair who's only barely taller than you. 

When the latter flops down on the couch right next to you, you tense up, apparently very visibly if her reaction is any indication. She looks a bit shocked. Confused. Maybe even a tad concerned.

As you go around talking, though, it becomes apparent that Amethyst, your fellow shorty, is actually quite friendly. Lapis much less so, but you can't help but be intrigued by her. There's something very fascinating about how aloof she is. 

A few sessions in, Amethyst asks where you go to school. “Beach City High,” you reply. “I'm a freshman.”

“Holy  _ fuck _ , I go there too!” She's grinning widely. “I'm a sophomore, but like...wanna sit together at lunch tomorrow?”

You're taken aback by the offer. No one has ever  _ wanted  _ to hang out with you. In truth, you're a bit scared to accept, concerned that she'll find you just as alienating as the rest of your peers.

“Uh, Peri?”

Fuck it. You accept.

\---

As it turns out, your fears were completely unfounded. Amethyst sits down across from you at your favorite table, located in the corner of the cafeteria nearest the door, and opens up her lunchbox. You're already eating--although you got cafeteria food today, and you very much regret doing so. 

Amethyst pulls a peanut butter sandwich out and begins to chow down, messy, almost animalistic, and she says something utterly incomprehensible through a mouthful of food.

“What?”

She takes a gulp of her Coke and swallows. “Sorry. Just askin’ how your day’s going.”

“Oh! Pretty well, actually. We have a  _ really  _ fun project in physics class.”

Amethyst snorts. “Fun? In  _ physics  _ class?”

“It's more likely than you think,” you insist. “I'm guessing you didn't get to build a trebuchet--that's our project, it's such a blast!”

“Oh, no, I built one. But it sucked in every possible way.”

“Huh.” 

Amethyst finishes her sandwich before you've even eaten half your shitty personal pizza. “So, electives? Extracurricular bullshit?”

“Uh, art and robotics club.”

“Cool. Art’s my elective too. Wish it weren't, because Ms. Vlasak is perhaps the biggest bitch ever to teach, but eh.”

“Ugh, I  _ know _ , right? She's such a  _ clod. _ ”

“‘Clod’? Does anyone still say that, or are you bringing it back to insult Sassy Vlassy?”

“I say it a lot,” you reply with a shrug.

“Cool, cool.” Amethyst guzzles the rest of her soda, and burps loudly. It's disgusting, and you cringe, but the fact of the matter is that on the whole, you are very much enjoying her company.

She looks at your pizza. “You vegetarian?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, you didn't get pepperoni on it. Or do you just not like pepperoni?”

“Oh, neither. I've been trying to keep kosher, you see.” As utterly inconvenient as kosher law can be, you kind of like it. The structure is nice.

“Ah, gotcha. Jewish, then?”

“Yeah. Practicing.”

“Cool. I don't know what the fuck I am--like, my parents are Catholic, but I've only been living with them a couple years, so I wasn't  _ raised _ Catholic?” She shrugs. “I don't really know what I believe about  _ most _ things though, so I guess it checks out.”

“Hm.” You're a bit surprised that Amethyst is being so open towards you. You're not used to it in the slightest. “Yeah, I mean, I don't follow  _ every  _ aspect. My hoodie’s a cotton-polyester blend, and like  _ fuck  _ am I getting rid of  _ that. _ ”

“Valid as fuck. Is it just the food stuff, then?”

“Pretty much. No shellfish, no mixing milk and meat, et cetera.” You gesture at your pizza. “Hence, plain cheese.” You take a bite--it tastes like cardboard, just like all the slop they serve in the cafeteria, but you refuse to let yourself go hungry. You internally curse yourself for opting not to pack a lunch this morning.

“Is it hard?”

“Extremely,” you admit. “I never liked shellfish, but I do miss cheeseburgers.”

“I mean, who  _ wouldn't _ ?”

(You don't keep the kosher diet up for long. You conclude that cheeseburgers and pepperoni pizza are worth it, and if God has an issue with that, well, that's  _ his  _ problem.)

\---

You grow close to Amethyst, extremely close, despite your parents’ vehement insistence that she's a bad influence, and one day she awkwardly approaches you after school and asks you on a date. You're confused, but accept regardless.

It's weird. When you make out, you feel nothing special. You're not even sure you'd ever want to go further than kissing with her. But you're not into guys, so you must be into girls instead. Right?

As the weeks go by, though, you begin to realize that while you love Amethyst, you're not  _ in _ love with her. You don't think you  _ can  _ be--not with her, not with  _ anyone _ . 

You don't tell her at first. You don't want to hurt her, because you  _ do  _ love her. It's just...purely platonic.

And then Amethyst asks your one day if you want to have sex, and you begin to panic. You're hyperventilating, shaking, and Amethyst notices, frowning.

“Uh...you okay, Peri? We don't  _ have  _ to--”

The words come out of your mouth before you can think them through. “I'm breaking up with you.”

For a long moment, Amethyst just stares in shock. Tears brim in her eyes, and you feel awful, but you can't live a lie like this. It's not fair to either of you.

“Why?” she finally croaks. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. You didn't do  _ anything  _ wrong. It's just...I don't think I'm attracted to  _ anyone _ . At all.”

She just sits there for a moment, frowning, trying not to cry. “Fuck.”

“I'm really sorry.”

“So am I.” 

“Huh?”

“For, y'know, asking you out.”

“Don't be,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m just weird and broken.” 

“You are  _ not  _ broken, Peridot. You're just...not into people like that. And I can respect that, y'know?” She's still tearing up, but she smiles through it. “I’d be a dick if I didn't.”

“Well,  _ yes _ , but--”

“No. No buts. I want you to be  _ happy. _ ”

She hugs you, and you can feel the dampness on your shoulder. “Are we still friends?” she whispers.

“Uh,  _ obviously. _ ” You're not the best at comforting people, but you wouldn't give up your friendship with Amethyst for anything, and you  _ must  _ make sure she knows that. 

You have therapy tomorrow afternoon. You decide not to attend this week. She needs space to vent, and you know it.

When you see her at school on Wednesday, she hugs you, and says, “Thanks for not hating me.”

“Thank  _ you _ ,” you reply softly, “for helping me learn about myself. And for being the best friend a clod like me could hope for.”

“You're not a clod. You're cool.”

“Wow, thanks.” You chuckle. “I  _ am  _ pretty cool.”

“Yeah. You are.”

**Author's Note:**

> friendship is magic


End file.
